


Operation Snacc

by Invincsum



Category: Berena - Fandom
Genre: Big Macho Army Medic Bernie Wolfe, F/F, berena - Freeform, canon/not canon, holby city - Freeform, serena campbell - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-04
Updated: 2020-01-04
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:01:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22119238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Invincsum/pseuds/Invincsum
Summary: Post "The Kill List", Serena gets an idea to build her girlfriend's knowledge and confidence in the bedroom.
Relationships: Serena Campbell & Bernie Wolfe
Comments: 9
Kudos: 27





	Operation Snacc

**Author's Note:**

> Though I wrote for a living (eons ago), this is my first published fan fiction. Constructive criticism welcome! This piece germinated in my squirrelly brain after seeing videos of people sampling snacks from different countries. I have a much longer, AU Berena piece I'm working on too but this snuck up on me and begged to be completed first. I hope it makes you smile, laugh...grab someone for a snog.   
Dedicated to LEM, the BWE.

Serena Campbell snatched the idea for Operation Snacc from, of all people, Fletch and Donna. Sort of. Always up for a laugh and a challenge, the nurses pooled their money on a monthly subscription to Snacks ‘Round the World.   
On the day Serena came upon them in Pulses, in desperate need of caffeine to stave off a weather-related migraine, the duo were entertaining themselves and other patrons with their ongoing commentary on Turkish rose water cookies and a sludge-like dessert made from camel milk…or some equally exotic ingredient.   
She carefully sipped her very hot, potent triple-shot latte and listened in for a few minutes’ respite from the AAU ward and a mound of paperwork.   
“Oi, Fletch. Let’s try this one next,” Donna Jackson urged, flipping the rounded-edge tub this way and that before prying the lid off with a plastic spoon. She dipped the utensil into the gooey, dense confection. “It’s supposed to be a wheat pudding…with chickpeas and sultanas,” she added with a skeptical expression.   
The bearded nurse gave her a “You first, mate,” nod and winked to Serena at the next table. Fletch was no fool.   
Donna tentatively placed a teensy bit of the mixture on her tongue. Suddenly, her face lit up and she plunged the spoon back in the container. “Oohhh, it’s lovvvely, Fletch!”   
“Here, lemme give it a go,” Adrian Fletcher did the same and found the pudding wasn’t half bad. Serena grinned back, waving off their offer to sample it, and headed up back to AAU, the genesis for Operation Snacc in place. 

As she exited the elevator and saw the office she shared with Bernie (visiting London for a conference), she stopped in her tracks. That’s IT! She thought. I’ll do that for Bernie. With a cheeky grin, Serena Campbell decided to curate some special treats for her own “snacc”, her girlfriend Bernie Wolfe.   
Retired Royal Army Medical Corps Major Berenice G. Wolfe, now Consultant Trauma Surgeon at Holby City Hospital, had led a somewhat sheltered life, sexually speaking. In the British Army from college on, married at 25 to a good friend she liked but who didn’t set her world—or bed—on fire, with several overseas tours before realizing she was a lesbian, Bernie Wolfe was damned near a virgin when it came to sexual toys and other erotic accoutrement. Supremely confident in the operating theater, Bernie needed a boost of self-esteem and a better sense of her own likes and dislikes in her personal life, specifically in the bedroom, Serena mused. Her lanky blonde girlfriend certainly seemed eager to please. But Bernie struggled to help Serena—a Sapphic newbie herself—understand what she needed or wanted. It was partly that words got in the way, partly that she simply hadn’t the experience.   
To be fair, since Bernie’s return from her three-month secondment to Kiev, the two surgeons agreed to take the physical side of their relationship slowly. They engaged in proper dates—dinners at a few favorite Holby restaurants, Serena cooking for them from her vast repertoire of gourmet meals, Bernie serving up spaghetti carbonara and French toast, her specialties. Saturday afternoons saw them walking in the park, taking in a museum exhibition or occasionally bingeing on some new Netflix series. They snogged like teenagers, cuddled like puppies but kept their physical touching above the waistline. Serena more than thought it was time to move things along but she knew Bernie felt shy and also was concerned—still, FFS!—about moving too quickly for Serena. Enter, Serena’s snack-inspired idea.   
Seven days later, Operation Snacc launched when Bernie Wolfe returned home to find a small cardboard box addressed to her outside her flat door. She recognized Serena’s neat (for a doctor) handwriting, shook it, sniffed it and decided to bring it inside. Dropping her briefcase on the floor just inside the door, slipping her keys into her right trench coat pocket, she kicked off her ankle boots and padded into the tiny living room. She placed the box on the trunk-cum-coffee table (“Really, darling, you decorate like a penniless uni student,” Serena had gently chided her.), pulled a pair of scissors out of a chipped pottery bowl on the trunk and deftly sliced open the box. First, she pulled out the handwritten note:   
Darling,  
I thought we could have some fun and broaden your erotic self-knowledge at the same time. Over the next few weeks, “Operation Snacc” will bring you a highly curated (by me) selection of toys and notions that I hope will delight you. Up to the challenge, Major? Then call me when you’re ready to “test drive” this week’s model.  
S xx

“Blimey,” Bernie Wolfe said aloud with a blush that warmed her face then shot down to her groin. She plopped down on the sofa, stunned.   
Then, she thought back to a conversation she and Serena had a few weeks ago. They were snuggled on Bernie’s just-big-enough-for-two sofa, sipping their favorite after-the-work-week drinks—a glass of that infamous Shiraz for Serena, a neat Islay single-malt for her—when Serena looked at her with a mischievous smile.   
“So, Major…do you have any toys?”   
Bewilderment ran across Bernie’s smooth facial features, quirking her eyebrows and tilting her head to one side. “Well, I have a magnetic backgammon set, a deck of cards…”   
Oh dear, Serena thought. “Er, I rather meant those that can be used in the bedroom…for erotic pleasure,” she further clarified, lest her literal-minded girlfriend consider referring to the portability of the aforementioned magnetic board game and playing cards.   
Bernie blushed nearly as red as the wine in Serena’s glass. “Oh, ah, I see,” she stuttered and quickly downed half her whisky, which only made her wince as it burned her gullet. “Uh, no. Just, ah, just these,” she said, holding up her right hand and wiggling her long, slender fingers. The sight and intention of which caused Serena to flush. What a pair we are, Campbell, the brunette thought, her mouth pursed. Bernie misinterpreted Serena’s look as “Dear God, how did I wind up with such a novice?”   
“Serena,” the blonde shyly began. But Serena, sensing her embarrassment, placed a hand over hers and started to say, “No, it’s ok…” but Bernie one-upped her hand and gave it a firm squeeze, indicating she wanted to continue. Serena took the hint and nodded.   
“I went from home to Oxford, then Sandhurst then med school and Marcus’s bedroom so fast. Every spare moment, I studied, worked out; I always fell into bed exhausted and always had a roommate. Even on the nights she was away shagging her boyfriend and I was alone and, on the rare occasion horny, I simply got myself off quick as I could so I could fall asleep faster.   
“Then with Marcus, he would have found toys or even lube initially to be an insult to his manhood. He graciously consented to let me use lube once I reached perimenopause,” she noted wryly. Ouch, Serena thought. What a bastard.   
“In country, sex was often the last thing on my mind. And, when I finally realized I was a lesbian and had sex with Alex, we, uhm, didn’t even had a decent bedroom let alone…” Bernie covered her eyes with her hands, realizing how pathetic her limited sexual experience seemed compared to the worldly brunette’s. Oh God, she’s going to think I’m some prudish virgin, Bernie thought glumly.   
The strong, courageous woman’s admission and her embarrassment touched Serena. “Darling, it’s nothing to be upset or embarrassed about. You’ve experienced plenty of things in this world that I have not. We each bring our unique histories to this relationship,” Serena said, gently pulling Bernie’s hands away from her eyes, kissing each palm tenderly before wrapping her arms around the blonde.   
“So…perhaps we can talk about pet peeves and experiences we’ve either had or would like to have. If not tonight, maybe via text or phone one night this coming week?” she hastily added, seeing a flicker of anxiety in her girlfriend’s eyes. “Maybe pet peeves tonight and the other stuff…later?” Bernie ceased looking like she was going to bolt.   
“OK, yes. Well, pet peeves or dislikes…long nails, especially toenails,” Bernie blurted out. A shiver passed through her at the thought. Serena rubbed her fluffy-socked feet together, wondering whether her nails would pass muster. “And I’m not into S&M. Or role-playing. I don’t want to play PT teacher and student or, heaven help us, doctor and nurse. Your turn!”   
Serena snorted at the doctor/nurse scenario. That had been one of Robbie’s favorites, but of course he wanted her to be the nurse, she said to explain her vocalization. She thought for a moment. “Unshaven legs. Pits and pubes are fine au natural but hairy legs…” she shuddered.   
“Duly noted,” Bernie smiled, her self-confidence returning. She always kept her legs shaved even in the winter. She regularly trimmed her thick dark bush but usually left her pits alone til the warmer weather.   
They also found themselves in agreement regarding showering before sex, oral hygiene and always staying til the morning (short of unavoidable shift start times).   
They carried on this way for a bit before Serena left for home, kissing and holding each other close for a long moment. This.felt.good. So good, so right. Each woman fell asleep feeling better about their relationship than at any time since Bernie’s return.   
At the weekend, Bernie was on call Friday and Saturday nights. Sunday mid-afternoon found her stretched out on her sofa, barefoot and in old sweats and a tee, relaxing with a bottle of cider and a recent medical journal as companions.  
Serena texted her:  
Name something sexual you either have tried or would like to. S xx  
Bernie smiled and appreciated the kindness of her girlfriend’s strategy: Serena correctly sensed it would be easier for her to talk about erotica and sexual terms when they weren’t face to face. Still, the blonde started off with a simple one.   
Would love to try 1 of those diff lubes. B xx  
Serena smiled. That would be easy. She herself often used a personal lubricant that added just the right amount of heat, as it were, to get things rolling. She typed:   
No problemo, Major. S xx

Three dots indicated Bernie was typing again. Then:   
And maybe 1 of those fancy vibrators. Only heard about them from str8 nurses in the RAMC. Never tried 1. B xx

The brunette grinned. Oh this will be fun! I may get another one for myself too. She pecked out:   
Your wish is my command! S xx

The lanky blonde squirmed a bit and licked her lips. Should I? Oh what the hell, Bernie thought. Be brave, soldier! She typed out the one she was most interested in and shyest about.   
Anal. Have done a little, ‘round the outside. Open to deeper exploration. B xx  
Good thing they were texting and not having a traditional phone conversation or the trauma surgeon’s hearing might have been damaged when Serena dropped the phone on the hardwood floor in shock. The gob-smacked brunette snatched up the phone before it could send a “WTF?” gif as a message. Oh Major! My BMAM has a naughty side.   
“Roger that…no pun intended! S xx

A text came through from Bernie, with a laughing-til-crying emoji and then:   
And u? B xx

Fair enough, Serena nodded to herself. Taking a deep breath and exhaling, she typed:   
Always wanted 2 try nipple clamps. S xx  
Oh my, Ms. Campbell. B xx   
Each woman suddenly flushed. Bernie made a mental note to seek out an erotic supplies website later…once they signed off for the evening and she took care of that aching need between her legs. 

When the vascular surgeon came home from work the next night, she wasted no time. She changed into comfy lounging slacks, took off her bra and donned an old RAMC t-shirt she adopted—ok, borrowed, alright, took for keeps—from Bernie. Made herself a charcuterie plate of cheese, olives and other tasty savories. Poured a deliciously large glass of her beloved Shiraz and booted up her laptop. A few clicks and she navigated to the website for The Plush Pussy.  
The process took longer than she’d expected. Such variety! Ok, so she needed to dash up to her bedroom once or twice to relieve the warm tension between her legs as she envisioned her blonde Wolfe trying different products. (Thank God, it was not fish-and-chips night but Jason’s night to sleep at Alan’s.) Finally, after two glasses of Shiraz (she had to work the next morning) and more than a couple fantastic orgasms, she placed her, ahem, sizable order. Serena had it all planned out. Each week, Bernie spent a few weeknights sleeping at her own flat. Serena would surreptitiously deliver a plain brown box to Bernie’s flat door for one such night a week for three weeks. (She couldn’t hand it to the blonde at work—the ever-inquisitive Wolfe would undoubtedly open it at her desk or in the car park and that would spoil the whole project.) Inside each box would be a note instructing the retired major to call her when she was “ready”. 

Thus, when Bernie found the package at her door a week later, she had an inkling of what might be in it. After reading the note, she rifled through the shreds of hot pink paper to find two slim plastic bottles. Both contained personal lubricant, one had a label announcing it as “stimulating”, the other was organic Astroglide.   
“Good Lord, everything comes in organic these days,” she mused aloud. She realized she needed to “get ready” and then call Serena so with a mixture of trepediation and horniness, she strode into her bedroom. Within a minute, she had stripped naked and was under the sheets of her king-size bed, her back propped up against two pillows, clutching the “stimulating” lube in one hand and her phone in the other. Anxious but becoming more aroused by the second, the blonde pressed Serena’s number under the Favorites section.   
“Well hello, Major,” the brunette purred onto Bernie’s ear. “I assume you received your package and are calling for our ‘play date’?”   
A shot of warmth ricocheted down Bernie’s body from her ear to her tits to her groin. Serena’s voice usually did that to her but this Operation Snacc added a whole new element to its effects. She gulped. “Uh, yes. Ready!”   
“Right then. Now, which ‘weapon’ have you selected?”   
“The stimulating one,” Bernie replied, adding playfully “Though with you on the other end of the phone, I’m not sure how much I’ll need extra assistance.”   
Serena grinned. Bernie seemed to be relaxing into the experience. “I will choose that one too. Oh, I forgot to tell you. For this play date, I have the same two products here. For others, you may be the only one with the accoutrement. Now, open the flip top and drip some into your hand and apply.”  
Serena could hear Bernie flipping open the container, snapping it closed again…and a low grunt of what she hoped was arousal as Bernie applied the lubricant to her private parts. The brunette followed her own orders too, releasing a deep sigh as she swirled the slick substance around her nether lips and slipped some into her vagina.   
“Mmm. Getting quite warm and mmm, a bit tingly,” Bernie hoarsely noted, her respiration rate increasing with each stroke and flick. She slid down the pillows to lay flat on the bed. The fingers of her right hand rubbed against her pulsing clit; she put the phone on speaker and laid it on the pillow next to her head so she could use her left hand on her hard, sensitive nipples. She teased and rolled each nipple in turn, imagining her fingers were Serena’s skilled surgeon’s hand and her deft, warm tongue. Bernie pinched the dusky little pebbles, picturing her girlfriend holding them between her teeth and sucking them. Grunts and a couple of quiet groans escaped her mouth and floated through the ether to Serena’s ear, spurring her closer to release.   
“You’re right-handed so is your right hand on your clit or inside you?” Serena queried. Her own right hand dexterously did double duty as she thumbed her hot clit and hooked her first two fingers into her vagina.   
“Uh,” Bernie had to think for a second. “Clit. And my left is teasing my, ah, nipples,” she managed to pant out.   
“Oh Bernie,” Serena moaned, her voice a low, deep whisper. “What you do to me…”   
“Must.be.like.what.you’re.doing.to.me,” the blonde gritted out in between grunts.   
A few moments later, the woman who could bark out orders and commands couldn’t even articulate an “Oh.” With a longer grunt, Bernie came as fireworks exploded from her swollen, sensitive clit. She thumbed the hot bundle of nerves, grunting more as each aftershock rippled through her, curling her toes and arching her back anew.   
Within seconds, “Bernie…Oh God, Bernie,” pierced through her own heavy breathing. Serena climaxed, fingers stroking herself to a glorious meltdown, rendering her suddenly boneless.   
“Wow, that was…” Bernie tried to formulate a sentence, her mouth so dry she needed a swig of water from her bedside bottle before she could consider speaking further.   
“Hmmm, yes it was! Well done, Major,” Serena lauded. Bernie closed her eyes and grinned. She wiped her hand off on a tissue, imagining Serena doing the same and gasped as another aftershock frissoned her long body.   
“Did you come, darling?” Serena inquired softly.   
Bernie found her voice. “Oh yeah. Sorry, I’m, uh, I’m rather quiet. Always have been. You, on the other hand, there’s no doubt that you did,” she added with a soft chuckle.   
“No need to apologize. I guess your circumstances over the years required some discretion. I’m just glad you enjoyed yourself so much,” Serena said, her voice husky. “So, we’ll keep this product handy, as it were?”   
“Abso-bloody-lutely,” her girlfriend enthusiastically affirmed, her voice rich with that deeper timbre that always lit a fire in Serena’s groin. 

A week later, another package awaited Bernie upon her return from the hospital. She became flushed simply thinking about its contents, dropped her briefcase and coat on the sofa and made a beeline to her bedroom, shedding shoes, shirt and utilitarian sports bra along the way. Her skinny jeans required both hands to yank off and were quickly followed to the floor by her knickers. She practically dove under the covers and opened the box. First, she read the note:   
Good evening, Major:   
Your assignment tonight should engage more than your clit. Oh, and I have one just like it so we can play along together. Call me when Operation Snacc is a go! S xx

Bloody hell, Bernie thought as her long fingers dug into the box and pulled out what appeared to be a battery-operated kangaroo vibrator. In olive-green silicone no less! Before she could stop herself, a great honk of a laugh erupted from her throat. Gives new meaning to “tie your kangaroo down, sport!” she thought. Giggling as she pushed the call button on Serena’s number, she murmured, “G’day, mate!” when the other woman picked up. Bernie snickered and honked again as she twirled the vibrator to see it from different angles.   
“Ah, I see you’ve opened the box,” Serena said, an amused chuckle greeting Bernie’s honk. “You may honk, but this ‘roo is pretty damned talented. You’ll be singing its praises before long, I assure you. Ready on your end, Sheila?”   
“Maybe a bit of foreplay first,” Bernie asked, her tone needy. She loved picturing Serena pleasuring her own firm, ample breasts and her own hands cupped her small mounds, nipples achily shrinking to tiny hard intensities.   
Serena heard the hint of anxiety in her girlfriend’s voice and was happy to comply. “OK…well, then. Shall I narrate the action here for you?”   
“Oh, god, yes…please, S’rena,” Bernie begged. Serena’s groin grew warmer by the second.   
“I’m in bed. Naked. My breasts are glad to be free of that bra, I can tell you. No knickers on either. My hands are running along the underside of each breast as I imagine you’re holding them, kissing them, licking them…ooh, now you’re rolling each nipple with your beautiful fingers. And flicking them hard, oh Bernie, you’re driving me crazy…”   
Bernie felt her wetness increase. “You can narrate to me any day or night, Ms. Campbell.” Bernie squirted a few drops of the “vanilla” lube onto the “face” or whatever that was and stroked a bit more onto the phallic shaft of the vibrator. “Ready,” she said, placing the phone next to her pillow. She slowly and carefully inserted the long cylindrical part into her vagina, hissing as it entered her. Damn…  
“You ok, sweetheart?” Serena asked, concerned.   
“Yup, just took a moment. Been a while since anything’s occupied that space, as it were,” Bernie noted. Might be a bit tender tomorrow. “Let’s crack on.”   
The ‘roo itself nestled against Bernie’s now-pulsing clit. She flicked the “on” switch, grateful that Serena had installed the batteries before delivering the device.   
“Oh, ah, cor…this is…” Bernie’s often-slim grasp of the English language once aroused had already eroded to monosyllables, which Serena took to be an excellent sign.   
“There you go, darling,” the brunette’s husky voice made Bernie feel as if Serena was rubbing velvet all over her. “Now I’ll just follow your lead.” Bernie could hear Serena squeeze the lube onto the vibrator, moan as it slid into her welcoming vagina and gasp-sigh as she thumbed the switch to “on”.   
“Shall I continue?”   
“Mmm,” Bernie could only grunt. The brilliant trauma surgeon had gone adorably cave woman on her girlfriend as the kangaroo worked its magic.   
“Now, you’ve got two…no three fingers inside me and you’re fucking me so well. Hard and deep, just the way I like it, darling. And your mouth, well, it’s even more bloody amazing than I knew…Bernie, oh…” she panted.   
More grunts, heavier breathing as Bernie neared her orgasm. “S’rena…I’m…” “Liquified.” “Glued to the mattress.” Were the terms that came to Bernie’s mind as she rode the incredible orgasm and aftershocks that crashed over her in powerful waves.   
“Bernie, love, I’m coming. Oh God, Berenice…” across town Serena’s orgasm coursed over her like a torrential downpour and she gripped the sheets tightly.   
For several moments, neither woman could speak. All they heard were the groans and panting of two very contented middle-aged lovers coming down to Earth from incredible heights of ecstasy. As well as Bernie’s grunt and Serena’s whimper as each clicked off and then disengaged a vibrator’s shaft from her sated, soaked core.   
“Bernie, you still there?” Serena rasped before guzzling a long drink of water. She patiently waited for a response, hearing the blonde doing the same.   
“Aye aye,” came the husky affirmative. “S’rena, that was…an excellent choice. Definitely the right kind of, uh, animal for us both.” 

In between their Operation Snacc “missions”, the women worked together on AAU as seamlessly as ever. If anything, some staff buzzed about how much happier each woman seemed, how much more at ease with each other and staff members. The palpable tension that had existed between the sometimes-caustic Queen of AAU and the enigmatic blonde trauma surgeon upon Ms. Wolfe’s return from Kiev had melted like a spring snow fall. Sure, the Werewolf, as Fleur Fanshawe dubbed her, would still compete toe-to-toe with Jac Naylor or Ric Griffin for any procedure closely resembling a trauma (and 9 times out of 10 she’d win). And Serena Campbell still reduced an F1 or two to a puddle of tears with a rapier-sharp tongue-lashing. However, overall, AAU’s staff and patients benefited from the entente cordiale.   
Off the clock and outside of Holby, the success of Operation Snacc led to Bernie opening up to the vascular surgeon about her emotions, pondering the origins of her self-protective reserve and trying very hard to communicate her wants and needs in a relationship. For example, Bernie came to understand that she really, really liked—more than liked, actually—cuddling. She could snuggle with Serena for hours, time permitting, nuzzling the brunette’s nape, resting her head on Serena’s firm but utterly feminine chest. More than once, she wound up staying the night after a particularly difficult day at work when she fell asleep in Serena’s arms and the vascular surgeon didn’t have the heart to wake her.   
Serena, in turn, gained Sapphic self-confidence, coming to believe herself (as she had expressed to Bernie) that they each brought a unique perspective to the relationship and thus being a formerly dyed-in-the-wool heterosexual wasn’t a deal breaker.   
Hectic work schedules, medical conferences, committee meetings and Jason’s home-nights notwithstanding, the women were inching closer to in-person consummation of their relationship. Bernie, chivalrous to a fault, an officer through and through in the best sense of the word, still wanted to “court” Serena and show her how much she appreciated the brunette. That she wasn’t taking her for granted as a friend or romantic partner. How much she liked her. Well, more than liked her!   
Berenice Wolfe had saved countless lives, served Queen and country for more than two decades, given birth to two children…but she had never really, truly had a chance to woo anyone. She and Marcus had been struggling students; his idea of courting was a couple of bags of chips or maybe a sausage roll to go with pints at the pub near campus. With Alex, their relationship roared from zed to 60 in a war zone—a smile or a wink over an anesthetized patient in theater had to suffice.   
Besides the hot-and-strong double- and triple-shot lattes and occasional chocolate-laced pastry, the shy trauma surgeon would place a delicate orchid in a lovely porcelain pot or a single vased rose on her co-lead’s desk. Or perhaps a CD of baroque music for Serena to pop in her car player for the ride home. Or Bernie would appear at Serena’s door on a Friday night if Jason was staying at Alan’s, toting delicious-smelling packages of Thai take-away, wine and minty foot massage cream to treat the exhausted and very grateful brunette after a long week.   
On another weekend, she whisked Serena away in her convertible to a lovely French restaurant in the countryside. She would have planned a picnic but the rainy weather didn’t cooperate.   
Serena felt more than liked—appreciated, cherished, wanted—and was nearly as giddy as a schoolgirl when she dropped off the last of her Operation Snacc boxes at Bernie’s flat door.   
Later that evening, the soft-butch trauma surgeon trudged up the stairs to her flat, her eyes widening, her gait quick-marching as she saw the package and its now-written-on-her-heart handwriting. Once inside, boots off, coat, keys and briefcase cast aside, her heart and clit pounded in sync as she pried open the box with her bare hands, the risk of paper cuts be damned!   
First, the note:   
Hello tiger,   
Next up for your evening’s pleasure-ing, is a vibrational device to explore a different tunnel. I strongly suggest the plain lubricant (not from personal experience, just a lucky guess ). Oh, and I don’t have one of my own but please do ring me when you’re ready to press “Play”.   
S xx  
P.S. If you’d rather try this product sans moi, I won’t take it as “radio silence” and thus won’t be offended. S xxx

Bernie swallowed hard and let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. Her slender hands reached into the box and pulled out a battery-operated butt plug, not the largest she’d seen in her online search but not the smallest either. Well, you did say you wanted this, Wolfe, she thought. Could one be completely aroused and totally embarrassed at the same time? Ah well, she thought with a smirk, In for a penny, in for a pound[ing.   
Taking a deep breath, the ex-officer hurried into her bedroom, nearly tearing her tunic and bra in her haste to be rid of them. Skinny jeans off (she forgot her socks altogether and they stayed on), she stumble-hopped under the covers. She lubed up the plug, balanced it on its flat end on her nightstand and rang up her girlfriend. Lord, it looks like a solid wee lava lamp, she thought with a giggle whilst waiting for Serena to answer. Her giggle had erupted into one of her infamous honks just as Serena picked up.   
“What has you honking, woman?” Serena asked, her tone cheeky. Bernie cleared her throat and explained.   
“Groovy,” Serena quipped. “All set? Seeing how this toy is for a bit more private area, would you like me to get things started for you? Maybe tell you what I’m doing to myself right now?”   
“Yes!” came the instantaneous reply. She would take Serena and that velvety voice as a “fluffer” any day.   
“Well, soldier. I’ve just slipped naked under the covers. My cunt is already wet, thinking of you. My nipples are already hard from the cool air and from thinking about what you’d be doing to them if you were here. Rolling them between your very skilled fingers, taking them into your hot, wet mouth and sucking them….”   
Blimey, thought Bernie, her own nipples standing at attention with desire and perhaps a bit of envy. Maybe I won’t need lube if she keeps going.   
After a few more minutes of Serena’s “pep talk”, Bernie was good and hot and ready. She picked up the plug, adding a fresh squirt of lube to its top, and circled it round her back door to ease entry. Her girlfriend, sensing what action was occurring, added a gentle, encouraging “Breathe, soldier” and heard the blonde inhale deeply and emit first a small grunt and a groan of pleasure as the object reached its target.   
“Oh, S’rena…this feels so bloody amazing,” Bernie moaned, her deep voice sending tendrils of desire right through town to Serena’s bed. The brunette gasped. Her own anus clinched in response. Bloody hell, she thought. Maybe I need to order one for myself.   
“I can almost feel it too, love,” Serena said, her speech time-delayed by overwhelming need. She grabbed her thickest vibrator, slapped some lube on it and it easily slid into her already soaked vagina. “You’ve got me so bloody wet, Major.”   
Bernie slowly squeezed and released her cheeks, undulated her slim hips and fingered her needy clit as the pressure inside her climbed. She had only ever teased her anal area with her fingers venturing around its parameter, not journeyed inside. She reveled in the fullness the plug created. Similar to vaginal sex but…oh hell, she’d save the analysis for later. Right then, she needed to come. With a groaned out “Serena!” she did. Magnificently. Profoundly. Repeatedly.   
Serena came relatively quietly (for her), not wanting to steal her beloved’s thunder. As Bernie returned to Earth, she wondered. “S’rena? Did you come?”   
“Oh yes, darling, how could I not, listening to your pleasure and imagining what you were doing. But tonight was about you,” the brunette assured her. Serena eased out her toy, placing it on the nightstand to be cleaned. She curled onto her side, biting her lip as aftershocks flickered through her. She heard a grunt and then a sweet sigh as, she guessed, Bernie released the plug from its nesting place.   
“Operation Snacc has been an outstanding success,” Bernie said, and Serena could hear the gratitude and self-confidence in her voice. More “Major Wolfe” than tongue-tied Bernie. “Thank you, my love, for the gifts, as well as your thoughtfulness and understanding. And some of the most amazing orgasms ever.”   
“You’re so welcome, my love,” Serena responded. Then giggled and failed to keep back a snort.   
“Ok, spill,” Bernie commanded.   
Wiping a few tears from her eyes, Serena explained the origins of Operation Snacc and soon had Bernie honking away.   
“Bloody hell, I sure hope they’re not playing with their next box around me ‘cause I’ll lose it,” Bernie admitted with a sly grin. “Oi, Fletch, my girlfriend makes the best snacc packs…” 

A week later, when Serena arrived at Bernie’s for Friday night dinner, she found Bernie had a new coffee table, a cherry mid-century modern-inspired model with a section that raised up to serve as a mini desk. A few prints of Army officers in regimental dress regalia stood watch over the living room in elegant old frames, alongside photos of Cameron, Charlotte and Bernie and a white-fur-goggled ancient black Labrador (with a very young Lt. Berenice Wolfe kneeling proudly next to her).   
On the coffee table, next to recent medical journals and cork-and-silver coasters, lay a small cardboard box addressed to Serena. She picked it up, shook it and heard a subtle rattling from inside.   
“What’s this?” Serena asked Bernie, who carried glasses, Shiraz and savory snacks on a gorgeous silver tray. (Clearly, a certain trauma surgeon had taken to heart some of Serena’s hints about her decor.)   
“Oh, just a little something I thought you might like. Go on, open it,” Bernie urged nonchalantly. She bit down on her lower lip and gazed at her girlfriend behind her blonde fringe. Serena gleefully tore through the tape on top. She flushed as her dark chocolate eyes widened upon seeing its contents.  
“Oh Major…I won’t say ‘You shouldn’t have’ because I’m so, so glad you did!” Serena’s timbre nearly caused the big macho army medic to drop the tray.   
“Operation Snacc has entered the second phase of its campaign,” Bernie said, cheekily. “Now kiss me, Campbell.” 

-30-


End file.
